I was mortified to read last week that I had inadvertently almost killed Sir Bob Jones with my mindless claptrap and worthless wittering. I was both surprised and dismayed to learn of the damage I had caused. Surprised, because I had assumed that this colossus of New Zealand was made of sterner stuff. Dismayed, because I am a huge admirer of his.

Sir Bob first came into my consciousness in 1984 when I was 13. No mindless claptrap or mangled mutterings on inequality, infrastructure and national identity for him. He was so dissatisfied with the direction of the country that he pulled down Muldoon’s despotic government handing the election to David Lange’s Labour Party. “Prosperity and freedom” was his catch cry and he was the catalyst for the much-needed reform to our economy and society that followed. We are all in debt to that great man for having the courage of his convictions and with tremendous apologies to Fred Dagg “we don’t know how fortunate we were to have that man, we don’t know how propitious were the circumstances”.

For nearly seven decades boxing has been part of my life. That includes Joseph, who I sponsored in his amateur days and managed in his initial professional years. Plus, I count as friends promoter Duco’s Runyanesque principals Dean Lonergan and David Higgins, who I contracted Joseph to, and also his Las Vegas-based trainer Kevin Barry, who I arranged to look after Parker.

So should I run along with the lapdog media and pretend this fairly non-descript matching is actually for the world heavyweight title, or instead care about the sport’s credibility?

I chose the latter path, more so after watching Trevor McKewen, the sports editor of NZME, owners of the Herald, Radio Sport etc. unbelievably tell television it will be the greatest event in Auckland’s history. God help us all. That remark is possibly the most stupid ever uttered in Auckland’s history and this contest wouldn’t rate in the first 10,000 events, sporting and otherwise in the city’s history.

When it comes to rugby, league, cricket, soccer and netball, our sports journalists are excellent. But with the exception of Joseph Romanos and Mark Reason, who always do their homework, they’re unprofessional, indolent slobs when commenting on minor sport, especially boxing.

I was perusing the Herald’s farcical annual supplement, “Mood of the Boardroom,” in which various public company chief executives’ platitudes on the state of the nation are aired. That the Herald thinks these characters have anything meaningful to say says plenty about journalists’ naivety.

Worldwide, the primary qualification for such positions is possessing a “safe pair of hands,” and a kick-for-touch approach to everything. Having opinions on anything beyond established orthodoxy would mean automatic disqualification for the job. The exceptions are the likes of, say, Rod Duke who actually created their companies.

Anyway, there I was; someone who, according to my GP, has the fitness of a 40-year-old, regular health checks, satisfactory blood pressure and a strong heart, this all pertinent to what occurred, reading this guff when I encountered a heading, “Strategic Thinking from Air New Zealand’s Chief Christopher Luxon,” this arguably the most banal nonsense ever to see the light of day since Gutenberg invented the printing press. I ploughed through with increasing outrage and, as my horror mounted, suddenly my brain turned to mush and I had a stroke.

After explaining some travesties of reporting against him by various media outlets he then sets about excoriating Matthew Hooton.

Despite my comments, I love newspapers and specially the Dom. But I give it maybe five more years due to the short-sighted Fairfax cost-cutting destroying all their publications. The latest newspaper circulation figures show it suffered a disastrous 14.4% drop in sales last year. Every newspaper is experiencing steady drops but none as bad as that. Staff lay-offs have become a regular feature of late. These sackees are being mopped up by the Weather Office where their creativity has proven a boon to the forecasting department. The sole New Zealand exception is The National Business Review, which alone deservedly enjoyed a growth in sales.

Still, when it comes to fiction-writing, nothing surpasses NBR’sMatthew Hooton’s July effort headed “Bob Jones’ right-hand man set to save Labour.” Over a full page it described how Greg Loveridge was to be the next Labour leader. Apparently he was about to abandon his $9 million Auckland home and recently acquired $3.5 million Waiheke week-ender and shift to Wainuiomata for God’s sake, to pursue Trevor Mallard’s seat, as a first step to taking over the Labour leadership. Hooton backed all of this with an extraordinary NBR radio interview in which he outlined this virtually as a fait-accompli. Read more »

Provincial towns world-wide are in steady decline. New Zealand is no exception. There are good reasons for that and they won’t change. A foremost one is tertiary education, now being enjoyed by more than 50% of our kids and rising. Take a student heading to Victoria University from say Hawera and living in the capital for 4 years, completing a degree. Even if pursuing a conventional career such as accounting, law or medicine, never in a million years will he or she then return to Hawera for reasons I hardly need to spell out.

The consequence of this is evident in our provincial towns today where you will now see the same faces portrayed 500 years ago by Bruegel in Flanders. Friendly coves to be sure but don’t expect scintillating discussion. So too in other western countries.

There’s another fail-safe test. If you can spot pretty girls over 20 or young blokes in suits in their late 20s to early 30s in a town then its current prospects remain hopeful. Otherwise, both categories have fled to the big cities. As a keen student of such matters, only Dunedin gets a tick, that is if one categorises it as a provincial city. Try finding a pretty girl over 20 or a young bloke in a suit in say Wanganui or Timaru and you will look in vain.

He discusses his pet hates about real estate writers and advertisements, in particular a comment by Sally Lindsay about the port having a “footprint”.

I imagine many other NBR readers also on reading that “footprint” outrage like me, collapsed into a coma.

An hour later I’d recovered enough to pull myself up on to my bed where after a further hour recovering I braved deeper into that NBR issue. Thank God I did so while lying on my bed, or more specifically, thank you Sally for putting me there, for reading further on I came to an article that had I been standing, might have killed me with shock. Even today I’m still a bit twitchy and having to take calming-down pills every hour. For, unbelievably, Bernard Hickey had created an all-time first and had contributed a positive article, its contents irrelevant to my point.

About four years ago I wrote a NZ Herald column urging Bernard and Rod Oram, now that pre-frontal lobotomies are discredited, to try a more time proven cheering-up remedy, and take on a mistress. Judging by his new happy-faced photo over his article, plus its hitherto unprecedented positive tone, it’s clear that like all converts, whether religious, political or what have you, Bernard has taken things to extremes and instead of following my moderate advice, has instead created a harem.

“Teachers struggle for jobs” was the welcome front page heading in the Dominion-Post a week back.

Before readers jump up and down, I’ll explain the ‘welcome’ bit. There has been a change of editor, meaning people with weak hearts can now resume reading the front page. Under the previous office-holder whose reign corresponded with a massive circulation decline, the mind-boggling fictions, disgraceful created non-stories and sheer nonsense bespoiling the Dom’s front page, plumbed depths never hitherto reached in the annals of newspaper publishing.

Nonsense articles still continue to entertain, only not on the front page. For example, not once but twice in the last few week’s, the Dominion-Post has described Kiwi Property as New Zealand’s largest listed company.

But back to the school-teacher story, published incidentally, under the obviously mickey-taking fictitious name, Laura Dooney. Ever heard of a ‘Dooney,’ aside from which, given the piece was well-written, anyone competent having such a name would long since have changed it by deed-poll. Be that as it may, the item claimed we’re pumping out school-teachers who are unable to obtain jobs. It cited the Ministry of Education advising that only 15%, for God’s sake, of new teaching graduates, are able to secure permanent teaching employment. This over-supply outrage was attributed by the NZEI president Louise Green, inter alia, to “teacher training providers, eager to sustain numbers and thus corresponding funding.”

Imagine this criminal court scenario. A respected and upright citizen, noted for his calm disposition, is facing double murder charges; his victims; the New Zealand Herald and Dominion Post editors.

He offers the following defence, namely he’s been away from New Zealand in a remote place for three years with no internet access. On arrival in Auckland he buys a copy of The Herald to read on the Air New Zealand flight to his Wellington home, assuming that’s still permitted by that appalling nannyish airline. Fortunately, I no longer have to suffer it.

In Wellington, he reads the Dom. Immediately he rebooks back to Auckland. On the way to the airport, he calls into the Dom’s office and murders the editor, then in Auckland he knocks off The Herald editor. A goner, I imagine you’re thinking,but wait, there’s more. For he then submits his justification, namely his uncontrollable rage at returning home to find the same old, day in-day out, wearying infantile hysteria dominating those papers on the bloody Auckland alleged housing crisis. It’s my pick a jury would take no more than three minutes to acquit him, with a rider of gratitude for his public service; this followed by the judge leading a standing ovation for both the jury and the accused.

If he were running for the local council in Levin, or indeed any small town’s council, let alone big cities, anywhere, anytime in the western world, he’d be history the first time he opened his mouth. But seeking instead the world’s most important job, his utter inadequacy seemingly doesn’t matter.

Trump lacks a single redeeming feature. He’s abysmally ignorant, crass, an oftimes bankrupt and unabashed persistent liar and alleged fraudster, then to top it off, for it’s always a factor, he’s bloody ugly with his porcine visage. Furthermore, it’s doubtful if any political aspirant has ever copped such unrelenting persistent abuse from the serious media. For example, that description above, with the exception of the porcine reference, is straight from a New York Times editorial a week ago, that being a newspaper normally with an almost snobbishly aloof approach of cautious understatement.

So too with all serious worldwide newspapers, their columnists, cartoonists and editorials hammering the buffoon daily, as no political hopeful has ever been pummelled, yet all to no avail as on he marches. Thus Trump’s on track to gain the Republican nomination, albeit not yet a foregone conclusion.

Your report on the long overdue Morgan statue has been shown to me. Plainly there has been a misunderstanding. It most certainly was not a “tongue in cheek” proposal. The widespread affection and admiration for Mr Morgan demands nothing less. Read more »